


This Isn't Your War

by medelrey



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 14:31:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7718500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medelrey/pseuds/medelrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And maybe Jenye was right; perhaps Jon isn’t so different from her. He is kind and gentle, a little on the quiet side, but so is she. He makes her laugh and there’s a bit of fire that lurks under his skin that Sansa’s drawn to.</p><p>She likes the way he speaks with a little bit of an accent. He says his mom’s from England and one day he’d like Sansa to meet her. She loves his laugh, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles at her and how he finds any excuse to touch her skin. Sansa likes the darkness of his irises, how brown they are, deep and swimming with unspoken words. She doesn’t think she’s ever met someone who can say quite as much as Jon does without speaking any words at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling a bit inspired by Across the Universe and decided to turn it into a Jonsa two-shot. Enjoy.

Sansa makes sure the baby-blue bows at the top of her knee-high socks match the perfectly placed headband in her red hair. “I don’t know about this, Jeyne. I mean, what would Joffrey think? He wouldn’t like me going out alone.”

“Well, do you plan on meeting anyone?”

“No, no, of course not. I love Joff. I’m just saying.”

“You’re with Robb and Jon. You’re not alone. And besides, Joffrey hasn’t seen you in nearly four months. We’re on Christmas break and he can’t find the time to come ‘round? He lives twenty minutes away.”

“He said his family is going on a hunting trip this year and that he wouldn’t be coming home. You know how his father loves to hunt.”

Jeyne rolls her eyes. “Well, in any case, Jon is quite handsome, don’t you think?”

“Jeyne!” Sansa gasps, giving her friend a light shove. “He’s…different. Not like us.”

“Don’t be such a snob, Sansa. He’s nice. Just because he goes to Princeton on a scholarship and works to make ends meet doesn’t mean he’s not human.”

Sansa purses her lips. “I mean, he’s just different. He seems nice enough, I guess.”

Jeyne flattens the pleats in her best friend’s skirt. “Stop worrying about Joffrey and go have a good time with your brother. You love bowling.”

***

Jon's kind enough to open Sansa’s door as they pile into Robb’s father’s ice-blue Cadillac convertible. He hops into the backseat, tugging his black coat tighter around his shoulders. “Let’s put the top down, Robb,” Sansa says, smiling broadly. 

“It’s cold, Sans.”

“And we have heat,” she argues, reaching for the crank. “My way or no way,” she grins.

Bowling starts out wonderfully; Sansa always keeps her word. It’s her way or no way, and she’s leading Robb and Jon at almost double the points. She’s about to throw another strike when she notices a familiar crown of golden hair seated in a booth two lanes down from her own.

It’s Joffrey, no doubt, with his perfectly pressed shirt and sweater thrown over his shoulder.

“Joff?” She calls, forgetting about her ball, her brother, and brother’s friend.

He turns at the sound of his name, cheeks flooding red in embarrassment or anger; she can’t tell which. “What are _you_ doing here?” He hisses.

“I’m with Robb. Shouldn’t I be asking you why you’re here? I thought your family was taking a trip.”

“Things…changed.” He says and for the first time Sansa notices a beautiful girl beside him, every bit of her gorgeous, with pretty curled hair, dressed in an outfit more revealing Sansa could ever imagine. Sansa’s jealous of her long legs, left bare under her patterned shift dress. She suddenly feels like a child as she looks over her own outfit.

“A trip?” The girl asks, taking hold of Joffrey’s hand, “You never said anything about a trip.”

Sansa fumbles in her knee socks, blinking back hot tears. “Is this why you haven’t called?”

“What’s she talking about, darling?” The girl says softly, mostly to Joffrey. She looks at Sansa with a bit of pity, looking moderately concerned before she glances back at Joffrey. “You must know her. Did you mistreat her?”

“Hush, Margaery,” Joffrey sighs, snatching his hand out of hers to stand. He looks at Sansa with such disgust she feels like her skin might catch on fire.

“Look, Sansa, maybe if you weren’t so…boring, things could’ve been different.”

“But I just thought that…” Sansa starts, voice wobbling from her tears.

“Stop causing a scene!” Joffrey snaps, raising his voice just enough for everyone to turn and look at them. Sansa slinks into her turtleneck, embarrassed. “Now do you see what you’ve done? Everyone here is staring and you’ve ruined mine and Margaery’s evening.”

Sansa freezes, face turning as bright as her hair as she’s scolded like a child. “I didn’t mean–”

“Yes, yes, you never _mean_ to,” Joffrey says, “But you do it anyway.”

“What’s going on over here?” Jon interrupts, standing so close behind Sansa that she can feel the warmth radiating off him.

“Nothing,” Sansa mumbles, turning to look at him, “Why don’t we get Robb and go somewhere else?”

“Is he bothering you, Sansa?”

“Let’s just go,” She pleads.

“Oh, I know this one,” Joffrey sneers, turning back to his friends. “This is that freeloading kid without a dad who always follows Robb Stark around like a dog.”

Sansa feels Jon tense up, anger rolling off him in waves. “Seriously, Jon, it’s not worth it.” She wishes she sounded stronger; she hates the way her voice wobbles when she’s upset.

“Joff,” Margaery calls, “Come back to me, my love.”

Joffrey gives Sansa one last look before he huffs and sits back down. “Mother said his deadbeat dad left his whore mother so he must have to find comfort where he can, I guess ”

Sansa doesn’t have time to stop Jon before he rushes past her, hauling the other boy up like he’s nothing. An awful sound echoes across the bowling hall as Jon’s fist collides with Joffrey’s jaw. He gets another blow into his nose before Sansa can get her hands on Jon’s shoulders, desperately trying to calm him down.

“Don’t ever think about talking to Sansa again. And you might want to watch what you say. I’ve heard there are quite a few people who want to do much worse to you than what I just did.”

Robb drags Jon out before he can do any more damage or the cops are called and all hell really breaks loose. Sansa holds both their arms as they’re escorted out. She sits in the back with Jon this time; silent except asking Robb to put the top up. It’s not the fun night she wanted, but it is the night she needed.

“Thank you,” she whispers as they drop Jon off at his tiny house on the opposite side of town.

***

Jon splits his Christmas break between his own home and the Stark mansion, trying his best to know Sansa from the outside in. She’s not totally the shy eighteen-year-old he thought. She’s stuck up, yes, spoiled, most definitely, but she’s the most intelligent person he’s ever met. Her laugh is like bells and he likes the way she sounds a little nasal when she speaks quickly and how dark her voice gets when Robb teases her about her height.

She’s a little timid in private; blocking her expressions, careful to laugh at Jon’s jokes and blushing when he compliments her. She’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen; how could he not tell her when he has her alone in the kitchen or by the Christmas tree when everyone’s asleep? Jon will coax her out eventually, with soft smiles and tiny laughs. He’ll have her by summer, no doubt. The summer they’ll spend in New York. She just doesn’t know it yet.

And maybe Jenye was right; perhaps Jon isn’t so different from her. He is kind and gentle, a little on the quiet side, but so is she. He makes her laugh and there’s a bit of fire that lurks under his skin that Sansa’s drawn to.

She likes the way he speaks with a little bit of an accent. He says his mom’s from England and one day he’d like Sansa to meet her. She loves his laugh, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles at her and how he finds any excuse to touch her skin. Sansa likes the darkness of his irises, how brown they are, deep and swimming with unspoken words. She doesn’t think she’s ever met someone who can say quite as much as Jon does without speaking any words at all.

He’s honorable, too, the way he defended her from Joffrey at the bowling alley runs on a constant loop in the back of her mind. Even with his honorable nature, she wonders if he’s half as innocent as he looks, and Sansa blushes at the thought. Girls like her aren’t supposed to wonder about things like _that._

But she does; she wonders what Jon kisses like and if it’s true he fell in love with a wanderer from the middle of nowhere with red hair like her own. Robb says he did, but Sansa doesn’t know the story; Jon always says she wasn’t his girlfriend. She supposes it doesn’t truly matter. They’re not together, _not really_ ,  _not yet_ , anyway. She’s sad when he goes back to Princeton and she goes back to her senior year of high school. He promises to call as often as Robb does, maybe write instead so only she can know what he has to say.

***

But suddenly it’s summer and she graduates high school and maybe she’ll attend college in the fall. She’s enrolled, but unsure; there’s so much to do and see before she gets old and now that Robb and Jon are spending their summer in New York all she wants to do is join them. She deserves it, after all, being the golden girl of the Stark family, earning perfect grades, learning French and Latin, and memorizing excerpts from Virginia Woolf, Proust, and Eliot. She’s smarter than her brother who’s just graduated from Princeton and well, with a little convincing, Sansa finds herself on the 3 o'clock train to New York.

Robb’s busy with his new girlfriend so Jon picks her up at the station instead. She hugs him like she hasn’t seen him in years; like he’s been gone from her for more than just five months. She’s everything he’s thought about since he left in December and now he can’t believe she’s here to spend the summer in his and Robb’s tiny two-bedroom flat in Chelsea.

Jon carries her backpack as he shows her around the city; his favorite hiding spots, the places he goes when there’s too much noise to hear himself think. He shows her the parks and the skyscrapers, pointing to the top of the Empire State Building. “Have you ever been?”

“No,” she smiles, “Can we?”

Jon takes her hand and buys the tickets. Sansa’s seen beauty before, but nothing compares to this. Not with Jon’s arm around her shoulders and his cheek pressed to her hair. She swears she can see the entire world against the backdrop of early-summer sun. “It’s like being on top of the world, Jon.”

“Yeah,” he says, looking at her through his sunglasses. “It really is.”

“It’s beautiful, I think. We’re in the biggest city in the United States and I feel totally free; like it’s only you and me here.

Jon smiles as she takes everything in. “You’re right where you’re supposed to be.”

Sansa stumbles closer to Jon, resting her hand on his chest like she does it every day, like it’s meant to be there. He resists the urge to kiss the top of her head.

“It’s getting close to dinner; do you want to go try this really cool place out in Brooklyn?”

“Brooklyn; isn’t that…like…”

Jon laughs. “There’s my girl.” Her heart flips at his words. “But no, it’s not. Come on.”

He holds her hand as they jump on to the subway, heading south. Sansa can’t get enough of all the differences around her. It’s all so overwhelming but she loves every second. She looks at Jon like he must own New York by now. She thinks she’s never made a better decision than to spend her summer with them.

The two eat in mostly silence, Sansa’s starving and so is Jon. They share silly glances and quiet whispers.

“One more thing, Sansa Stark. Have you ever had a _real_ drink?”

“Of course not. You know me.”

“Aye,” he says, grinning. “But would you like one?”

“Yes,” she replies, a slight rush of anticipation flooding her system.

***

“What happened to your dad?” Sansa asks, feeling bold after Jon serves her first drink. It’s an awful thing he calls a gin and tonic but Sansa learns if she drinks it fast enough, it’s not half bad. And the more she drinks, the less she tastes.

“I don’t know, really,” Jon mumbles. “He was stationed in England during The Second World War. He met my mom and married her within two weeks. She says they were madly in love but he was shipped off to Germany a month later. He died three weeks before I was born. She came here after to escape out of London; she didn’t feel safe being a widow with a newborn."

“Oh,” Sansa says, frowning, fumbling over her words. “Robb never said it was like that. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Jon mumbles. “I didn’t know him. It doesn’t bother me to talk about it. Mum says he died a hero but I wouldn’t know. I don’t even know what battle he died in. Everyone says I should be proud but how can I be proud of someone I didn’t truly know?”

“I don’t know,” she says honestly, reaching for his hand. “But I’m sure he’d be proud of you.”

Jon smiles that half-smile she’s come to know him for and she feels her heart skip a beat. She kisses him instead of speaking, catching both of them off guard. It’s half-dark in the apartment, only lit by a few lamps placed around the floor. Sansa tastes like the bitterness of gin and the saltiness of the tonic water she’s been sipping and she kisses like she’s never kissed anyone but Jon loves every second of it.

He cradles Sansa’s face in his hands and presses his lips to hers like they’re puzzle pieces made to be together. They line up perfectly and Jon loves the little gasp that leaves her mouth when his hands make their way into her hair. Sansa almost embarrassingly falls into lap, half-drunk. He kisses her slowly for a bit, taking the lead, but stops after a few minutes.

“Sansa, if you’re going to kiss me like that, we need to be sober.”

“Why?” She whines.

“Because I need to know that’s what you truly want.”

“It is. It really is.”

He kisses her nose before he stands her on wobbly feet. “Tell me that tomorrow, sweet girl.”

And Sansa’s asleep before he can even properly tuck her in, but maybe she'll feel the same in the morning. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How can Jon fall in love with the girl of his dreams when there's a war at his doorstep and honor calls his name?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is so sad. I did not intend for it to be this sad, but here we are. Most of this was inspired by my dad's stories from Vietnam (the shrapnel, the radio, Iron Butterfly...almost everything).

He realizes in July that he  _loves_  her, and how could he not, when she laughs like there's nothing wrong in the world and holds him like he's the only thing that exists in the entirety of New York. But ever since that night in the bowling alley, she's the only thing Jon's thought about. And now she's his, all his, so pretty, wrapped up in his sheets, red hair all over his pillows with her hand curled under her cheek. 

He can still taste last night on his lips, the heady tang of her cunt looming on his tastebuds. Jon wakes her with a kiss, running his hands along her arms. Sansa grins as she lifts the sheets, pulling him under the duvet. She's soft like silk in his hands, folding under him and welcoming him back to bed. Jon kisses her neck, her chest, down to her hips until she sighs contentedly. Sansa tastes like heaven on his tongue, sweet, tangy, salty, all at the same time.

She's wet, so wet, dripping onto his tastebuds and overwhelming his senses. She grips his hair as he runs circles over her clit, making her ache with pleasure. Jon could do this for hours, be buried between her thighs, licking her cunt, listening to the sounds she makes. She arches her hips against his mouth, biting down on her fingers to keep quiet. Sansa blushes at the sight before her, Jon nestled between her legs, cheeks pink and shiny from her arousal. She almost feels as if she should stop him; the act almost obscene and this is something girls of her nature certainly don't do. 

But then she hears Jon moan, the vibrations of his voice washing over her, and she feels his fingers press into her hips and decides that  _no_ , this is too good to stop. Sansa forgets all coherent thoughts, twisting her neck to shove her face into the pillow as she maneuvers her hips downward. Jon's tongue slips inside her, deep as he can go as he flicks it in and out, encouraging her movements with his fingers and his voice. 

She's the best thing he's ever tasted, overwhelming and overbearing as he licks a stripe back up her center, swirling his tongue around her swollen nub until she's whimpering his name and begging for release. He wishes she could be louder; that Sansa could yell his name and call it out for the entire neighborhood to hear. But for now he'll take the tugs on his hair and her soft sounds. 

Jon looks up to watch her face, turned red with excitement and more beautiful than ever. She glows against his sheets as she locks her thighs around his head. "Keep going," she murmurs, "Right there." 

Jon's never one to disappoint; so he listens, wrapping his hands around her hips and holding her to the bed. He flicks his tongue over her clit until she's mewling, bowed off the bed to grind against his mouth as she comes. Sansa fumbles through her orgasm, reaching for purchase on anything that's near. She feels like she's floating out of her body as Jon coaxes her through the feeling; pulling her back down to earth so she can catch her breath. 

Sansa's still quaking when he kisses back up he'd body, pausing to lavish her breasts with attention. He trails his tongue over her nipple, barely teasing it with his teeth before he moves to the other, this time using his palm to beckon her body to his. 

He presses into her like he belongs; like he was carved and made just for her. It's a pleasant ache after the night before; touching places she didn't know existed. Sansa loves the way Jon feels inside her, moving slowly, until it feels like he's just an extension of her. It's beautiful, really, the way Sansa's hips arch and form against Jon's. She digs her fingernails into his shoulders, leaving little crescent moons in her wake. Jon keeps the rhythm slow, cradling her face between his hands while keeping his lips pressed to her cheek. Sansa's so beautiful beneath him, breathless and aching, lips flushed and mumbling his name. She's absolutely divine as he hitches her leg up around his waist, sinking deeper until there's no one in the world but them.  

Sansa crosses her ankles behind Jon's back, closing her eyes as he moves a little faster, thrusting harder until she's seeing stars and calling out his name. Jon can't help but laugh as he covers her lips with his, swallowing her moans and shushing her. She pushes her hips up, grinding until she's coming again, clutching at Jon's shoulders and pulling at his hair so hard she's surprised he has any left. She comes with a silent scream, marring Jon's skin with her teeth as she pulses around him. He holds her tightly as she comes down, still moving his hips until he can't stand it anymore, pulling out and spilling across her thigh. 

"I'm in love," he mumbles into her neck, leaving a wet kiss behind. 

Sansa laughs, rolling them over so she lies on his chest. "We both are."

They spend the rest of July in quiet happiness, August in the hot summer heat, wasting their days in Central Park and watching all sorts of protests on the street. "They're right to protest," Sansa says, "How can our government keep killing us?" 

Jon shrugs. "What else can we do?" 

 ***

It's September when Sansa sees the letter from the government sitting on the countertop. Her heart drops as she notices there are two; one for Robb and one addressed to Jon. She doesn't have to open it to know exactly what it is. She foregoes a glass when she grabs the vodka from under the counter, drowning back her tears and anger. The alcohol burns, but not as badly as her throat does. All she can feel is the bile rising and falling, torching her stomach and lungs until half the bottle is gone and there's nothing left but numbness. 

The front door opens and Jon smiles at her, wide and unknowing, sweet like cake and as innocent as a child. "Hi," he says, running his hand through his curls. "How are you?"

Sansa scoffs, throwing the letter at his feet. Jon frowns. "A draft notice?" 

"No," he mumbles. "I wasn't drafted." 

"Then what's that?"

"It's my assignment for basic." 

"You're telling me you signed up?" 

"Basically," Jon says, running his fingers over his chin. "We would've been drafted regardless."

"Maybe not," Sansa whispers, taking another swig of vodka. "You can't know that."

"It doesn't matter now, does it?"

"You don't have to do this, Jon. It's not your war." 

"It's not Robb's, either. But he's like my brother. I can't let him go off alone." 

Sansa bites her lip. "He didn't have to volunteer either. Just because Robb's serving doesn't mean you have to follow him." 

"I do, Sansa. I don't expect you to understand." 

"This is war, Jon. Do  _you_  even understand? Do you know what you're facing?" 

"No. But how can I sit back while everyone I know goes? How can I let Robb go by himself?"

"What are you doing it for? Honor? Glory?" Sansa angrily wipes her tears away, jerking as Jon reaches out to touch her arm. 

"Sansa, you know it's more than that." 

"Is it? Is it really?" 

Jon sighs in frustration. "It's already done now. I can't take it back." 

"I should kill you myself. Don't you realize It's one thing to lose a brother?" Sansa says, gathering her purse and jacket in her arms. "And another thing to lose you?" The empty bottle smashes into a hundred pieces against the floor as she slams it down. 

"Sansa, where are you going?" 

"Out," She replies simply, shrugging her bag over her shoulder. "I'm going out." 

And when she looks at him like that, Jon wonders how he could ever think it was okay to leave her. 

***

Sansa kisses Robb on his cheek at the airport before he ships out, dressed in uniform and standing in front of Jon. They'll fly from New York, to Chicago, to Seattle before they reach a war they may never come home from. Sansa's steeled herself to accept that. "Promise me you won't be a hero." 

"I promise," he says. Sansa knows he's lying. 

She kisses his cheek once more, hugging him as tight as her bones will allow. "Take care of Jon, okay?"

Robb nods, ruffling his sister's hair. "Go say your goodbyes and I won't look."

Sansa crashes into Jon, wrapping her arms around his him, cradling her face into the crook of his neck. She desperately wants to remember this moment, to memorize every detail of him. "Please don't go," she mumbles, half begging. "Basic was bad enough." 

"Sansa..." 

Her voice breaks. "I said please." 

Jon hoists her higher, holding her so tightly he just might break her in two. "I'll be home before you know it. Remember the bowling alley? Remember the first time you ever smiled at me? You were so shy. I loved it. I loved you since that moment." 

Sansa sniffles, not caring that she's crying on his uniform or making a scene. "Don't cry, sweet girl. Remember the top of the Empire State Building; the diner in Brooklyn? Remember what it was like when I had you the first time?" 

Sansa pulls back, kissing him for all it's worth, disregarding her parents stares and all the people around her. "Promise you'll come home. Promise me, Jon," she says sternly, pressing her forehead against his. "And you won't leave me again." 

"I promise. After this, it'll always be me and you. It's always been me and you." 

He kisses her once more as the airline calls to board the plane, tangling his fingers in her long hair and wishing more than anything in the world he wasn't leaving. Jon presses his lips to her forehead, gazing at her for one last time before he sets her back on her own two feet. "Me and you," she says. 

Jon smiles sadly, picking up his bag and following Robb. He can't bear to look behind him; one look and he'll be a deserter. 

***

"Do you miss her?" Robb asks, fiddling with his radio beside his head. 

"Of course," Jon answers.

"That was a stupid question," Robb laughs, settling the tuner to blast In-A-Godda-Da-Vida. "Gods, I love this song. Drowns out all the noise." 

Jon smiles as he shines his boots. "Do you regret extending our service?" 

Robb shrugs. "What else was there to do? Our platoon said yes. We've never been cowards." 

"I miss home. I miss my mum and I miss Sansa. Letters don't go out like they used to and getting them is even worse." 

Robb frowns, sitting down on Jon's bed. "We'll go back soon; the war can't last that much longer, can it?" 

A sudden ping startles Jon before their barrack goes quiet; Iron Butterfly silenced by a sharp silver bullet. "You don't think..." Robb begins, looking at his friend with wide eyes. Another shot comes through the roof of the tent and Jon swallows hard. 

"Get it together!" Their commander shouts, "This is what we've trained for!" 

Jon's never moved so fast in his life. He trips over his boots before he can slip them on, finding a spare helmet and a vest. Robb's on his heels as they exit in a group, guns drawn and palms sweating. The mud is thick beneath their feet and the only light comes from the moon. He can hardly tell whether it's the wind moving the tall grass or the enemy; but it doesn't matter, he shoots anyway. He tries his best to keep his eye on his best friend but there's too much going on; he can hardly keep up with himself. 

The end comes when the sun drifts over the horizon, lighting up the earth like it's the biggest bonfire he's ever seen. The air smells of blood and the cries of the men around him sound even worse. He finds Robb in the corner of their camp, pale like a ghost with congealed blood on his face and hands. 

"Robb," he whispers, running toward him with fast feet. 

"Jon," Robb croaks, head lulling to the side. "I won't make it much longer." 

"Shh," Jon replies, kneeling down to take his hand. "You'll be fine. Doctors will be here any minute." 

"I'm not going to last. Just listen to me. Stay with me, won't you? Tell my parents I love them. Tell Talisa I'm sorry. Tell Sansa I wasn't a hero." 

"But you are," Jon says, squeezing Robb's hands. "You are a hero." 

"No," Robb mumbles. "But please make sure they know I love them and I'm sorry I didn't make it home." 

Jon nods, breathing hard. "I will."

"You were the best friend I ever had, Jon. I wouldn't have made it this far without you." 

He laughs, shaking his head. "You only like me because I follow you everywhere." 

"Maybe," Robb sighs. "Thank you, Jon. For everything. Take care of Sansa. Make her happy. You're the only one I trust to do it."

That's the last thing he says before he closes his eyes, heart stopping in his chest. Jon cries as he holds his best friend in his arms, Robb's body going limp as he dies. "No, no, no," Jon sobs. "You can't leave me like this." 

His words are wasted; the dead hear no words of the living. 

***

Jon's an in army hospital when Sansa finally sees him again. He doesn't look like himself, so so skinny with dark circles under his eyes. He looks like he's been through hell and Sansa doesn't doubt he actually has. She cries on his chest, clutching the starchy hospital gown he's dressed in and nothing feels okay. He doesn't hold her or touch her hair or do anything to acknowledge she's there. 

Maybe he's the one not there; still locked in the muck of the Vietnamese marshes and holding Robb in his arms as he bled out from the wounds in his chest. Sansa cries and cries, running her fingers in Jon's short hair and touching the bandage on his neck but he only blinks. There's nothing there. Jon's in his hospital bed but no one's home. 

"Jon, please," Sansa pleads, "You're home now. Please, please, please." She doesn't even know what she's asking for.  

He glances at her with an empty stare, slowly opening his hand to give her something. Sansa inspects the silver object carefully, picking it up and feeling it's sharp edges across her palm. A piece of shrapnel, she guesses, no bigger than a few centimeters long. She wonders if this is what's locked Jon away from her. Sansa cries fresh tears as he turns on his side, like she doesn't exist. 

"I'll come back tomorrow," she whispers, reaching out to touch his shoulders but stopping half way. 

Sansa wipes her tears on her sleeve as she exits his room. "He's held that since he's come back from the hospital in Germany," the nurse says, "The doctor pulled it from his neck. A half-inch to the left and he would have bled out almost instantly." 

"At least it's not what killed my brother," Sansa says bitterly. 

***

She visits Jon everyday, doing the same routine. Sansa kisses his hands, checks his bandages, gives awful stares at the nurses who come to treat him. They never deviate and Jon never speaks, just looks at her with empty eyes until he's finally released just before Christmas. It's been four years since he punched Joffrey in the face and sealed their fate forever. "You said you'd come back to me," Sansa mumbles as the nurses put him in the car. "Please come home to me." 

Jon blinks at her, reaching up to touch her hair. "Sansa," he says, "My sweet girl." 

It's halfway through January when Jon comes back to her; all big brown eyes and a light smile. They're walking in the snow of the Stark gardens; hand-in-hand. His hair is longer than Sansa ever remembers, tied back in a bun at the nape of his neck. Jon's not the same person he was when he left that day in November, but he's _still_   _hers_.  

Jon stops suddenly, taking Sansa in his arms  arms and laughing, swinging her around as he kisses her cheeks. It's the first time he's smiled in months and Sansa wishes she could see it forever. 

"You're real and I am home," he mumbles into Sansa's hair, holding her so tightly he might just crack her ribs. 

"I'm real," Sansa confirms, winding her hands around his neck, "You're not there anymore." 

"No," Jon says, kissing her lips, "I'm not." 

When she looks into his eyes, she knows the road hasn't ended yet. There'll be hoops to jump through and nights spent crying, holding back his fists when she accidentally wakes him. But it's a start and it's all she's wanted. It's all she's needed. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know what you thought. I'm always on tumblr @ mattysigh.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on tumblr @ mattysigh.


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